


Voice(less)

by Princessfbi



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-Musicians, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enjolras Has Feelings, Family, M/M, Panic Attacks, Parental Issues, Protective Grantaire, Twitter, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:24:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessfbi/pseuds/Princessfbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that he’s worried. No, Grantaire wasn’t worried at all because the last thing he wanted to be in front a crowd of thirty thousand people was to be worried. Their fans caught everything! The oddest facial expressions would be captured forever and that gif of Marius sneezing is still trudging through the Tumblr channels much to Marius’s chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice(less)

**Author's Note:**

> See below for playlist because while I have been published for poetry I cannot... in no way shape or form… write song lyrics. I spared you.

@Cleriss7 Liberté concert w/my besties #thelife

@JimmyRoxs Do you think Bossuet’s rents ever thought my child will be a bass player?

@JimmyRoxs #BossBass2014

@GapYear4Life Best song EVER!!! #Libertetour

@EpiseeEpido Eponine in those boots! My Khaleesi!

@Dude_No Spilled drink on my shirt :-/ must be a #liberte concert

@VennessaKay Enjolras’s voice is life! Like goodbye!

@Thisismyname When will E and R get married? Like c’mon already!

@Caybro454 Maybe you’re born w/it. Maybe it’s maybeline. Either way those blond curls!

@McFartherAway An acoustic! I’m actually getting to listen to an Enjolras original!!!

@JoeyByLife *faints, dies, and goes to heaven happy* #Libertetour

@HappinessLove Guys! U don’t UNDERSTAND! I’m here for an acoustic!

@MandaPanda I’m totally not ignoring my history paper to watch the live stream of #liberte

     @FerreLiberte Do your homework.

          @MandaPanda @FerreLiberte OMG

 

 

 

It’s not that he’s worried. No, Grantaire wasn’t worried at all because the last thing he wanted to be in front of a crowd of thirty thousand people was to be _worried_. Their fans caught everything! The oddest facial expressions would be captured forever and that gif of Marius sneezing is still trudging through the Tumblr channels much to Marius’s chagrin.

But when Enjolras had huddled them together and whispered the next song, he had known something had been off. Enjolras had been too withdrawn, too closed off. Enjolras had a voice that was meant to be heard but he was quiet man by nature. Quiet but never closed off.

The song had only been written a week earlier, circulated between them on the tour bus and copied when they stopped at the next city. The instrumentals were simple but intense and he could practically feel the thrumming energy as he tuned his guitar for effect, allowing the others to gather themselves. The crowd went crazy for it. All of them came from close enough to classical backgrounds in music and even Marius preferred to have sheet music without lyrics. Enjolras was a firm believer that the music should be able to speak without his voice and Grantaire had taken great pleasure in insisting that the only thing their fans could hear was Enjolras and his skinny jeans. 

They had practiced it once together as a group but Enjolras hadn’t sung with them. Nothing too out of the ordinary. They fed off of each other easily enough to cover when the others needed it and Enjolras had yet to deliver anything but a hundred and ten percent with his voice.

So, no, Grantaire wasn’t worried but he was... aware. And he was aware enough to see the increase of tension along Enjolras’s spine the further on the song went.

“We are not the same…”

He shared a glance with Combeferre whose mouth was in a thin line as he watched Enjolras. Enjolras’s hands were free to roam but instead they were wrapped around his microphone stand, his knuckles white with how strong he's grip was as if it was the only thing keeping him up. Their audience didn’t seem to notice too much.

Enjolras was no Jehan but Enjolras’s songs, originals that were written and performed by him, were hits that were never recorded. He liked the intensity of an unedited rawness to a song their fans could only hear live. And, Grantaire knew, Enjolras felt that whatever message he was trying to push was heard by their fans and left them wanting more, hopefully spurring them to invest time and effort in what he was saying. Something commercial, like their recorded works, lost their meaning after about the first week the radio played them continuously. Grantaire, cynically, didn’t think their fans were that invested. He loved their fans but he was sure they saw Enjolras’s songs like a prize to be won in a cereal box, a goal or an accomplishment. They were never the same and they were cherished.

Enjolras’s voice cracked into a growl. “’Cause my head's held high…”

The crowd erupted as they played into the chorus. Combeferre sent Enjolras another worried glance as he harmonized with Enjolras, his face pinching and his eyes narrowing from behind his glasses.

Grantaire was steadily growing more worried--- he didn’t care what Tumblr caught at this point--- as the song went on. Enjolras was pushing and he never pushed his voice. He was the epitome of vocal health especially when they were on tour. No one had batted an eyelash when Enjolras had opted to simply mouth the words during their sound check claiming vocal rest.

They had all known the words obviously but hearing Enjolras sing them… Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Dreams we have as kids all fade away.” Enjolras swayed slightly, nearly buckling beneath his weight. Grantaire was already moving by the time Enjolras took another breath.

“Now it’s not the same…” With a flick of his wrist, Grantaire ripped into a solo and even though the audience was cheering, going wild and screaming as Grantaire’s guitar sent the arena a cascading flurry of music, he spied Enjolras from his peripheral. Combeferre had stepped downstage to support Grantaire’s solo, his body covering Enjolras as he spoke something to him. His chest was heaving as his body forced him to breathe and his blond curls were slick with sweat around his forehead but he was standing and a resolute mask replaced the flicker of uncertainty that flashed across his face. He shook his head at whatever Combeferre had asked him and stepped back to the microphone. He spared a small smile to Grantaire and there was suspiciously an increase of flashes from the crowd at that but he just nodded and stepped upstage.

“And I don’t know why I just let it slip by me all the time…”

Marius and Bahorel were slamming into their respective instruments, driving the crowd crazy as Enjolras finished out the song. Bossuet stepped closer to the huddled group, sending a curious glance to Grantaire. It was going to be a new hit--- probably one of the best that they had ever had--- Grantaire knew it. But the worry was set deep in his bones and even the thrill of knowing they had nailed it, scored another show stopper, wasn’t enough to keep him in the moment. He could only watch as Enjolras, determined he was to finish, crumble with the last verse.

“I just wish you had tried.”

Bahorel drummed hard enough to break one of his sticks, Marius’s fingers were flying over his keyboard, Combeferre the face of concentration, and Enjolras was practically running off the stage. The audience erupted with screams, chants, declarations of loves with flashing lights of cameras and claps accompanied by whistles. Grantaire swung his guitar from off his shoulder and chased after Enjolras.

Cosette met him at the edge of the stage, her face tight with worry.

“He’s in the green room,” she said to Grantaire’s silent question. “Don’t worry. We’ll cover.”

As if timed, the crowd roared into a crescendo and he heard the beautiful whining strain of Eponine’s fiddle. Cosette squeezed his arm with a smile and ran on stage, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses in a way that was sickeningly cute and only she could get away with. It was what made Cosette and Eponine’s act work so well. They were night and day and complimented each other in a way that never ceased to amaze.

Grantaire was handing off his guitar unseeingly as he stalked through the road boxes and equipment for the green room. When he got there, Enjolras was pacing, his hands wrapped in tight fists around his blond curls. A wheezed pained sound rushed past Enjolras’s lips and his chest was heaving until he was nearly hyperventilating.

“Enjolras?” Another painful wheeze and a sharp tug at his curls. Grantaire moved across the room, catching Enjolras on his turn and stopping his movements.

“Enjolras! Hey stop,” he said reaching to curl his hands around thin pale wrists. Another pained wheeze from Enjolras. 

“Stop,” Grantaire said softly as he slowly untangled his long fingers.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong and it made Grantaire's chest twist in a vice like grip. Enjolras wasn’t crying but he wasn’t ok either. But before he could say another word, Enjolras stood up tall, sucking in a breath into his chest and holding it before he turned around to face the door.

The door crashed open with a slam as a man, imperfect with age but near the same grace he once had when he was younger, stormed into the room.

“What in God’s name was that?” The man asked with the same amount of power and force Enjolras gave when he was opening a show. “Why must you make everything some kind of over dramatic spectacle?”

“I---“ Enjolras began but he slammed his mouth shut with an audible snap when the man scoffed.

“Not everything is about you,” he said. “Do you know what it’s like? To sit and watch you waste time and money? To watch you throw all the effort away like some kind of ungrateful brat?”

Grantaire had never seen Enjolras like this, silent, when he would have otherwise been ripping anyone else to shreds. His face was like someone had a hand clasped around his throat, squeezing, cutting off any voice he had ever possessed. Grantaire felt a rush of anger at just the thought. Enjolras had a beautiful voice and no one had a right to take it away! To make him voiceless. 

“Despite what you may think, I’m not an idiot. You don’t think I know exactly what that was? I am a grown man who has made mistakes in the past, yes, but they are mine to make. How dare you wave around my life like some kind of flag for your immature self pity party? I entertain this delusional play time by coming to this event and what do you do? You throw a temper tantrum.”

Enjolras curled his fists at his side but his voice was low and quiet. “I didn’t ask you---“

“Grow up, Enjolras. It’s time you start taking responsibility for your actions because let me tell you something,” the man said advancing towards Enjolras in two large steps. “All those… _fans_ … all those so called people of yours will get tired of listening to you whine about what you think is unfair in the world and leave you. Soon you’ll see that no one can put with your moody bratty irrational behavior and you will be alone. No one will want to deal some holier than thou child that can’t accept when people make decisions that you don’t like and everyone will see that you are doing nothing but wasting their time.”

“You’re wrong,” Grantaire said. Both men whipped around to look at him as if having forgotten he was even in the room.

"Excuse me?" The man asked. Stalking forward, Grantaire pressed himself in between them, glaring up at the man with a cold expression.

“You’re wrong.” Grantaire repeated. “It’s people like you, the ones that can’t accept their children the way that they are, the ones that take away their voices, that Enjolras stands up against. It’s the people like you that don’t listen because they're too caught up in their own selfish… self-absorbed _bullshit_ to even notice when someone is about to implode with self-hate that Enjolras reaches out too. It’s people like you that make our fans think that they aren’t worthy of love or brave enough to have a say in the way they run or do their lives that Enjolras gives hope to. And it’s people like you that make me really want to punch someone.”

“Whoever you are,” the man said with a sneer pulling at his lips. “Mind your own business. This is between my son and---“

“I think you should leave.” Grantaire interrupted with a swift lift of his chin. Enjolras’s father jerked, stunned that Grantaire would even speak to him let alone cut him off. He peered around Grantaire at Enjolras but Grantaire stood tall.

“Go. Now.”

Enjolras’s father had no choice but to step back and he glared at Grantaire with a familiar look that he had seen blaze brighter on Enjolras.

"We aren't done here son," Enjolras's father said before he left, slamming the door on his way out.

There was a beat, a half second of tension in the room where Grantaire’s heart hammered into his chest with adrenaline and anger coursed through his veins before he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He turned around, scratching a hand into his curls, and expecting Enjolras to tell him off for speaking for him only to have the blond wrap his arms around Grantaire’s torso. Grantaire’s arms lingered out at his side, too shocked to react efficiently until his brain caught up with the rest of him and he curled his arms around Enjolras.

Grantaire’s t-shirt was damp with sweat and his flannel button down smelled like stale alcohol but his body was warm and comfortable. Enjolras melted into his arms, his face pressing into his clavicle, as Grantaire became his shield. He was too open, too vulnerable and the sounds of the crowd and the energy he usually fed off of felt like a thousand knives that poked at him like he was an exposed nerve. Grantaire’s hand found the crown of his head and worn, calloused fingers kneaded blond curls at the base of his scalp.

They stayed that way, silent in comparison to the screaming arena and blaring instruments. This was familiar enough that Grantaire didn’t completely mess it up. Whatever he and Enjolras were--- to hell whenever they actually figured that out like actual functioning adults--- he could handle this. This being the side that Enjolras struggled to put back together. Enjolras bleeding after he ripped himself open so that people would see his soul and understand that what he was saying, no matter how idealistic it seemed, was genuine. Enjolras's acoustics were rare and collected but they were gifts. They were parts of Enjolras that he revealed for anyone who needed it with little regard for himself and sometimes Enjolras had to remind everyone just how human he really was.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire began. Enjolras tucked his arms in between them but just when Grantaire had thought that Enjolras was going to push away, he burrowed further into Grantaire’s chest, pressing his forehead down onto Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Please don’t ruin this with an apology,” Enjolras said, his voice muffled by shirt and skin. “Please.”

“Ok, ok. I---“ Grantaire swallowed down another apology and shifted so that he was squeezing Enjolras close. He didn’t speak again until Enjolras had stopped shaking.

“Do you want to go back out? Or do you just want to go back to the bus?”

“I have to---“ But Grantaire shook his head and held Enjolras out at arm’s length.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, the picture of someone about to argue and opened his mouth to speak but Grantaire shook his head.

“I mean it, Enj,” Grantaire said. “You don’t have to do anything. There’s a reason we have back up set lists.”

Enjolras chewed on his lip, his blue eyes glancing back towards the stage when they heard the crowd chanting out Eponine’s and Combeferre’s names as they had some kind of strings battle. They were stalling until they got word about what to do next and he was half surprised that Courfeyrac hadn’t come bursting through the doors. The fans loved Enjolras. They were entertained and enamored by everyone else but they loved Enjolras. They came for Enjolras and they stayed for Enjolras. They were expecting Enjolras. But this was Enjolras’s decision.

Enjolras worried his lip some more until Grantaire lifted his hand to cup his face, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the abused skin until he released it from his teeth. Enjolras’s skin felt warm and sticky from sweat beneath Grantaire’s hand but his breath was a cool contrast against the side of his wrist.

“Give me a couple more minutes?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire nodded with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll see you out there.”

Grantaire waited until the song was finished and the crowd was cheering before he ran back on stage with his guitar. The volume increased and the cameras were flashing rapidly that he nearly fell over but he caught Combeferre’s eye and nodded. Lifting up a single finger, their signal that they were moving onto the back up set list, he caught a glance with everyone on stage. Marius cracked his knuckles and checked over his keyboard while Bahorel flipped one of his drumsticks in the air. Cosette kissed Grantaire on the cheek and took her bow with Eponine before exiting the stage with a wave.

When he was certain that everyone on the technical crew had seen the signal, Grantaire took his place behind Enjolras’s mic, easing his guitar strap over his shoulder. The crowd didn’t even seem to have dampened their overall spirits in the room from the sudden departure of Liberté’s lead singer. Though, their fans had always been a little more forgiving of Grantaire ever since he had come up and planted on wet kiss on Enjolras during one of their more commercialized songs and had run off the stage cackling last April. He was wild and reckless and the fans always loved a bit of spontaneity. He held up a hand with a dramatic flourish and waited until the crowd had quietened into a dull murmur.

He let them sit for a moment, then two, and sucked in a deep breath before he slid his pick up the neck of his guitar. A squeal emitted from his fingers and he heard Marius follow his lead as Combeferre led the audience in the beat. It was campy and just so rock concert that Grantaire would normally roll his eyes but that’s why it was the back up plan.

“Some legends are told….” He sang into the microphone, hearing his own voice echo throughout the air. He felt his stomach fall in that familiar way it always did. There was a reason that he rarely sang front but he didn’t care. If Enjolras needed all night then Grantaire was going give him that. The crowd drowned out his voice in his own ears, which made it a little easier.

“But you will remember me,” he sang, gripping the mic to steady himself as he bent into the note. Not exactly the correct posture to reach it but whatever. He needed to sell the crowd and sometimes you were just _into it_ as he had often said in arguments with Enjolras about voice straining. “Remember me for centuries.”

“And just one mistake…” Enjolras stepped back out on stage, waving to the crowd and smiling over at Grantaire as he stood beside him. “Is all it will take. We’ll go down in history… Remember me for centuries.”

Grantaire strummed his fingers across his guitar, jumping with Combeferre as they played in tandem and Enjolras held the microphone out to the crowd.

 

@Libertefanbook An ExR duet?! Are you kidding me? #sohappy

@Caybro454 GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW! #liberte

@Monica4Luv Tumblr here I come! #libertetour #exrduet

@Reallyisthatso WHY OH WHY am I not at the Liberté concert?

@Isthisjustlife878 You don’t understand guys! I’m crying. I’m actually crying!

@NewsPressDenny I certainly will remember this duet for centuries if you catch my drift!

     @CourfLiberte that was horrible! Come work for our marketing team!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't Know Why- McFly  
> Centuries- Fall Out Boy


End file.
